


Safe From Harm

by writteninblood



Series: Never the Same [10]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Baggage, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Injury, M/M, Makeup, Mutual Pining, OTP Feels, POV Edward Nygma, POV Oswald Cobblepot, Protectiveness, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Cuddles, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 13:51:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14310057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writteninblood/pseuds/writteninblood
Summary: Oswald sighs as his eyes tear up. Edward’s hugs always did feel like home.





	Safe From Harm

**Author's Note:**

> This was my favourite part of the series to write. I really hope you guys enjoy :) <3

Oswald and Martin are both waiting in the study for Edward, who is late by half an hour. It is incredibly unlike him, and Oswald is getting more concerned by the minute. Martin has sat down at the desk and started on a new puzzle book to pass the time, but Oswald leans against the front of the desk, tapping a foot impatiently.

Finally, Mr. Penn comes to the study, his manner rather serious. 

“Mr. Cobblepot, Mr. Nygma would like to speak with you privately. He is waiting just outside the main doors.”

Martin jumps off his chair and makes to go with Oswald, but he holds up a hand. “You will stay here with Mr. Penn. I won’t be long.” He turns to Mr. Penn. “Make sure Martin is brought anything he needs.”

“Yes sir.” 

Oswald picks up his cane, closes the door and hurriedly makes his way to the vestibule. 

His heart lurches painfully when he sees Edward. He’s leaning against the wall panting, his face beaten black and blue, one of his arms holding his middle protectively.

“Ed!” Oswald exclaims in shock. “What happened?”

“I was recognised and jumped by a gang in the Narrows. They wanted—they wanted to trade me for a member of their gang who’s currently serving time at Blackgate.”

“Ed, we have to get you to a hospital.”

“I can’t go to a hospital, Oswald, I’m wanted by the GCPD. Besides, it’s just bruises. I’m fairly certain nothing’s broken.”

“At least let me call my doctor, or Lee?”

“I have to give Martin his lesson, Oswald.”

Oswald stares at him incredulously. “Ed, you can barely stand! Martin can forego his lesson for one week!”

“I don’t want him to know anything is amiss,” Ed says, cringing as his lip splits open again. 

“Your face is covered in bruises and blood, Ed.”

“That’s why I need your help to cover it up. Please, Oswald?”

“This is absurd,” Oswald scoffs. “At the very least you should be at home resting.”

Edward doesn’t reply, simply looks at him pleadingly. 

Oswald rolls his eyes and says, “follow me.”

Oswald leads him up to his bedroom, where he keeps his makeup. He instructs him to sit on the bed as he opens out his vanity. He then retrieves the first aid kit from the bathroom. 

As Edward sits, he groans. There is obviously some bruising around his middle, and it’s piquing Oswald’s anxiety. He wishes Edward would let him get his doctor, for Oswald’s own peace of mind, if nothing else. 

He tilts Edward’s head up, takes off Edward’s glasses and doesn’t waste time gently cleaning the cuts. He tries to stay professional about it, but with Edward’s brown eyes staring up at him, it’s very difficult. 

Edward is going to bear the marks of this particular beating for a while, and rage bubbles in Oswald’s blood at the idea of anyone daring to mar Ed’s perfect face like this.

“Do you want to know how I got away?”

Of course, even though he’s been the subject of a spectacular beating, Edward still wants to show off. 

Oswald raises an eyebrow, and it’s enough.

“You remember how I infused the glitter in my cane with pepper spray? I made an adjustment so that it could emit it from both ends, so I pressed both buttons, and I disabled the whole gang at once!” Edward hisses as Oswald cleans a cut on his cheekbone. 

“I would have killed them of course if I’d had the energy. But the priority at that point was getting away, so that’s—”

Oswald throws away the dirty cotton buds and cloths and stares at Edward aghast. “You mean the people who did this to you are still out there?”

“Well yes, but—”

“Where did this happen?” Oswald interrupts. His rage is bubbling over at the thought of this gang still roaming freely after what they’ve done. “I’m going to _rip_ their insignificant heads from their insignificant little bodies…”

Oswald doesn’t realise he’s angrily pacing until Edward gets up and stops him. Oswald wonders if he’s annoyed at what he probably deems an overreaction, but his expression is kind, appreciative even. 

“Breathe, Oswald,” he says gently. Oswald instantly feels calmer at the tone. 

Edward sits down again and gestures to the vanity. “Martin is waiting.”

*

Oswald nods, takes several measured breaths, and gets to work with the foundation. His touches are so gentle, and his skill quite masterful, that Edward finds himself utterly fascinated. When he’d had his own show in the Narrows, he had started experimenting with makeup, but the products were cheap, and his knowledge was lacking. Oswald’s own collection is of course filled with the best items on the market, and he is clearly a practised expert.

Edward finds it soothing, the sweep of the brushes, Oswald’s fingers rubbing foundation cream into his skin, careful not to apply pressure to the sore and bruised areas. He closes his eyes, quite content. He wishes this could be a regular occurrence. 

He’s almost disappointed when Oswald says he’s finished. 

“I can’t cover that cut on your cheekbone because it’s still open,” Oswald says regretfully. “I’ll have to put a band aid on it. I can’t do anything about your lip either.”

“That’s okay. I can explain them away with clumsiness.”

Oswald nods and holds up a mirror, like a hairdresser showing him the finished work. 

Edward is amazed. His bruises are all gone, and the skin tone is natural, almost exactly like his own. Oswald is an artist.

“This is incredible, thank you Oswald.”

“Any time,” Oswald says flippantly. “Though I’d rather you didn’t get yourself beaten to a pulp again.”

“I didn’t get myself beaten to a _pulp_ —”

Oswald silences him with a look as he retrieves a plaster, peels off the paper and lays it gently across Edward’s cheekbone. He smooths the sticky sides down, and is about to take his hand away when Edward covers it with his own. Oswald gasps. 

Edward wants to kiss it, wants to rub his cheek against it, wants to do _anything_ that would mean getting to feel more of Oswald’s skin, but given the amount of time Oswald spent on covering the damage to his face, it would be inadvisable to touch anything with it. He sighs as he looks up at Oswald, who’s gazing down at him too, a hint of a smile on his lips. Oswald’s other hand comes up, like he wants to touch Edward too, but just as quickly drops it back to his side. 

“Get along with you,” Oswald says suddenly. “Martin is waiting. And I need to inform the chefs that dinner will have to be later tonight.”

Edward looks down with chagrin. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset your routine.”

“Nonsense,” Oswald says, waving a hand to dismiss the matter. “Would you like to join us after the lesson?”

Edward’s heart flutters wildly. He’d never anticipated being asked to stay to dinner after a lesson. He’d thought of it many times of course, but never thought it would actually happen. 

“I’d love to.”

“Good. I’ll see you in one hour then.”

Edward grins at him, unable to contain his excitement as he heads out of the door and down to the study.

“Oh and Ed, would you tell Martin about dinner?”

“Of course!” Edward yells back up the stairs.

*

Dinner is usually a short affair for Oswald and Martin. But with Edward there too, the usual hour turns into two, and then three, as Edward tries to stump both the Cobblepots with his riddles. They have dessert, which Oswald and Martin don’t usually bother with, and then coffees and mints are served for both Oswald and Edward. The chefs are not used to being able to show off quite this much, and what they produce is exquisite. 

Edward is doing a good job of hiding his injuries but given the chance to observe him, Oswald does notice the grimaces here and there that Edward allows himself when Martin isn’t watching. 

Their merriment comes to a natural stop and Martin grins at both of them in turn. 

“Well it’s late and I should be going.” 

“Go and say your goodbyes to Ed, Martin, and then it’s time for you to go to bed.”

Martin nods and goes to hug Edward, the first time Oswald’s seen them do so since that awful night. He doesn’t miss the way Edward cringes when Martin hugs him just a bit too tight. He hugs the boy back all the same. 

He signs goodnight to Oswald and then leaves the room and goes to his bedroom. 

And then it’s just Oswald and Edward. Oswald clears his throat awkwardly, and Edward does the same. Oswald wants to ask him to stay, but he doesn’t know how, or even if he should. Sleeping on the couch after movie night was very special, but Edward had departed the next morning with not so much as a goodbye or a message. He’s not sure what’s happening between them, other than the slow rebuilding of their trust. He feels like it could be more, but he hardly dares to hope. Was it a fluke? Was Edward really just too tired to go back to his place?

“Well, I’ve got a club to open, and I imagine you want to get some rest…”

Is it Oswald’s imagination or does Edward look disappointed? The man nods and turns towards the door. 

“Thank you for your help today,” Edward says, not looking at him. “And thank you for dinner. I had a lovely evening.”

Oswald wonders why Edward won’t look at him. Also wonders how on earth he can read sadness from the line of his shoulders. 

To hell with it.

“I could get my staff to run things without me…” Oswald trails off nervously. He closes his eyes and nods to himself. “If you wanted to stay tonight.”

Edward turns around quickly—too quickly, because he grabs his middle and groans. Oswald is limping over to him before he knows what he’s doing, touching his arm in concern. 

“We’re not sleeping on the couch tonight though. You need to sleep somewhere more comfortable.”

Edward looks up at him, and that disappointed look is back, a thousand-fold. Oswald knows immediately that Edward is thinking that he’s going to put him in one of the guest bedrooms.

“I’m not sure I trust you to get yourself home safely anyway,” Oswald remarks, walking past him and heading along the corridor to his room. Edward follows behind him, and Oswald hears his breath hitch when he opens the door to his bedroom and steps inside. 

He’s blushing furiously as he turns around to look Edward in the face. “Would you like to come in?” 

It seems ridiculous to ask as though it’s a grand gesture inviting Edward into his most personal space, when he’d already been there just a few hours prior. But Edward seems to appreciate the significance of this particular occasion. This is Oswald’s safe space, the one place he doesn’t worry about anyone trying to attack or hurt him. And he’s allowing Edward into it. 

“Yes.” Edward says, his voice gritty. 

Edward crosses the threshold and all but falls into Oswald’s arms. Oswald sighs as his eyes tear up; Edward’s hugs always did feel like home. And it’s been a long time since they hugged on mutual ground—too long. He wraps his arms around Edward and closes his eyes, overwhelmed by feeling. It’s been such a long road.

Eventually they part, and Oswald isn’t really sure what to do next. Sleep is the obvious objective, but how do they get there? Do they just take the essentials off and sleep in their clothes like last time? Or does Oswald offer him pyjamas? 

But Edward takes off his shoes by the door, then takes off his jacket and tie and hangs them on the back of it. He then goes and sits on the edge of the bed, undoing the top buttons of his shirt, just like last time. Well, that answers that. 

He needs to inform Mr. Penn he won’t be present that evening before he forgets. He steps outside to make the call, telling Edward he’ll be back in a moment. 

When he returns, Edward is still sitting on the edge of the bed, seemingly too nervous to make himself properly comfortable on it.

Oswald takes off his jacket and lays it across the chair at his dresser before heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth. “How are you feeling?” He asks as he notices Edward has already brushed his. He stares at the newly opened brush sitting in the holder beside his. 

“Awful,” Edward admits. “I’m exhausted.”

“Will you promise me that you’ll at least have Lee check you over just to make sure there’s no serious damage?” Oswald asks after he’s brushed his teeth. 

“It _is_ just bruising, Oswald. But if it makes you feel better I’ll go and see her tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” Oswald says, splashing water on his face, before coming into the room and taking off the same things as Edward. He flips on the lamp so he can turn the main light off. 

Moment of truth. He’s about to get into _his_ bed with _Edward_. It seems both surreal and the way it should be, somehow. Edward gingerly gets up and goes around to the other side of the bed. They pull the sheets back together. Oswald climbs in first, laying as close to the middle as he dares, propped up on the pillows. 

He thinks Edward will just get in beside him and fall asleep, the way he did before, but the man hesitates. Oswald looks up at him curiously.

“Could you, um, hold out your arm?”

Oswald’s breath catches in his throat as he lays his arm out towards Edward. He gives Oswald a tentative smile and takes off his glasses before crawling into bed and shufflling over, curling into Oswald’s side. Giddy joy courses through Oswald as Edward rests his head on his chest. He smiles up at the ceiling as he slowly lifts his arm to rest his hand protectively on Edward’s back. In response, Edward lays his free arm across Oswald’s middle. 

They are _holding_ each other.

Oswald has taken many risks in his life, but he thinks this might be the best one yet. 

“Goodnight, Ed.”

“Mmm.” Edward mumbles, practically asleep already. 

Oswald, who is used to going to sleep much later, simply lies there savouring the feeling of having Edward in his arms, soothing his hand across his back. His lips brush across Edward’s forehead, and his wounded heart feels whole.

He eventually falls asleep, his other hand covering the one Edward has flung across his middle. 

*

Edward wakes up in the middle of the night, needing to use the bathroom. He’s disoriented, and it takes him a moment to figure out where he is and what he’s doing. The lamp is still on, so when he lifts his head, he sees Oswald fast asleep, strands of his hair having fallen across his forehead. Edward smiles for a moment, but can’t really enjoy it as the need to go to the bathroom is pressing.

He gently extricates himself from Oswald, but had forgotten about his injuries, and can’t stop the surprised groan escaping his lips when he sits up. Oswald is awake and alert in moments, looking around for a threat, but seeing none, his eyes land on Edward, somewhat bleary. 

“What is it? Are you alright?”

“Fine. I just forgot about the bruising. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay,” Oswald says, lying down again. 

Edward heads to the bathroom, and his joints seem even more stiff now he’s had some rest. As he turns to close the door, he’s hit by a spasm of pain across his ribs. He must make a noise because he hears Oswald knock on the door, asking him again if he’s alright. 

“I’ll be out in a moment,” Edward says. He quickly relieves himself before heading back into the bedroom. Oswald is perched on the edge of the bed, his face the picture of concern. 

“I think they might have done something to my ribs. Possibly a fracture. The pain was quite intense.”

“I told you to see a doctor, Ed, why wouldn’t you listen to me?”

“It’s the middle of the night Oswald, there’s nothing to be done about it now and it’s not worthy of the ER. I’ll go first thing in the morning.”

“Okay.” Oswald reluctantly concedes. “But let me get you something for the pain.” 

Edward nods and Oswald disappears into the bathroom, returning a moment later with a couple of pills and a glass of water. Edward takes them and carefully gets back into bed, sighing when he lays back. Oswald gets in too but this time keeps his distance. Edward is still exhausted, but he can’t bear the thought of going back to sleep without the comfort of Oswald’s arms wrapped around him.

“What are you doing?” Edward asks. 

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It didn’t hurt before, it was only when I sat up. Could we—please?”

“Okay,” Oswald says, holding out his arms. 

Edward gratefully resumes his place by Oswald’s side, sighing happily at the warmth and affection so readily given. How has he coped for so long without this?

He’s laying higher up this time, his head beside Oswald’s. As he drifts off, it feels like the most natural thing in the world to lean in and kiss Oswald on the cheek. The touch and faint smell of Oswald’s cologne is intoxicating and his lips linger. Oswald turns into it, so their cheeks are brushing, almost like a nuzzle. His breath catches—they’re so close now, it would be so easy to turn his head slightly and kiss Oswald properly. But he doesn’t want their first kiss to be like this, with him half-asleep and in pain. 

He feels Oswald’s hand lay across the back of his jaw, his fingertips lightly brushing the nape of his neck. Oswald’s slow exhale tickles the skin of his cheek. The moment stretches out; Edward’s desire for closeness, the other’s desire to reassure and comfort. Oswald’s fingers stroking the nape of his neck feel unbearably reverent, the tenderness of the touch causing Edward to fall deeper in love. 

It’s alarming, the strength of the emotions that Oswald makes him feel, still coming to terms with them as he is. It certainly isn’t convenient to feel this way, given everything that’s passed between them. Complicated isn’t a strong enough word. But the fact is, being with Oswald like this, it fills in a missing part of him, a part he didn’t always know was there. He feels as though he knows himself better, and thus his capacity for happiness is greater. It’s as though his soul has been flooded with it. Warmth, safety, and happiness—three things he’d grown up being certain he would never find. And certainly not with the man beside him. 

Edward smiles and reaches out his hand, searching for Oswald’s, entwining their fingers together when he finds it. Giddy excitement swirls around his heart at the sensation. 

There can be no mistaking the meaning of it all now, Oswald _must_ know what Edward feels. It’s only a matter of time. 

*

“Was it worth it?” Oswald asks as he and Edward tuck into breakfast.

“Hmm?” Edward mumbles, mouth full of toast. It causes a deep pang in his heart, seeing Edward sit to his left to eat breakfast, like he always did at the mansion. They’ve almost resumed their places in each other’s lives as easily as breathing.

“Whatever you did in Europe that made you number one on everyone’s hitlist.”

Edward’s calm demeanour immediately sours. He swallows his toast with difficulty, and Oswald wishes he hadn’t asked. 

“I wouldn’t have gone if…” Edward trails off. He knows Oswald doesn’t need that night rehashed for him. “At least, not so soon.”

Oswald looks down at his empty plate, suddenly having lost his appetite, despite all the delicious dishes before him. “I’m sorry.” 

Edward doesn’t say anything, just stares down at his plate too, silently acknowledging all the mistakes that rise like mountains between them. Results of rash impulses, like everything that’s ever caused friction in their relationship. 

“I’ll miss the paintings,” Edward comments suddenly. Oswald turns to look at him curiously.

“I’m going to frame someone else for the theft, which means I’m going to plant them in their home. I don’t want the GCPD sniffing around here again. At least not because of me.”

“I can handle the GCPD, Ed, if that’s what you’re worried about. Besides, the GCPD is so inept you could hang the paintings on the walls of the precinct and they probably wouldn’t notice.”

That draws a smirk from Edward, and Oswald sinks back into his chair, relieved to have diffused some of the tension. 

“It’s not just because of that. I realised that I’m not ready to be the city’s most wanted. I have work to do, and I need to up my game. And…I need to fully accept who I am.” He looks at Oswald, eyes bright with purpose. “There are things holding me back.”

Does he mean Oswald? Perhaps he views their reborn friendship as detrimental to his progress. Does Edward think Oswald stopping him from being the villain he wants to be? Oswald wonders how many villains steal, kill and cause general mayhem by day and sleep in their friend’s arms by night. He supposes, in a way, it makes sense. The first time, Edward had been tired. The second, he had been weak and injured. Edward wants to cut things off before they get too sentimental. 

“I understand.” Oswald says, looking fixedly at his plate.

“I knew you would,” Edward responds, his tone warm. “You’re the only person who truly understands me, Oswald.”

Oswald nods, not looking up. He will be whatever Edward needs him to be, no matter how much it hurts. Oswald owes him that.

“Well I should go and see the doctor, as promised.” Edward dabs at his mouth with a napkin and stands up. Oswald stands and limps over to Edward, unsure what to do. They haven’t done this in a long time. 

“I’m sure you’ll be back to your old self in no time.” Oswald looks up at Edward’s face, noticing how the makeup has rubbed off, and all the bruises have bloomed into deep shades of purple. He feels a fierce urge to protect and defend. Oswald wants to keep Edward there with him, to ensure he’s always safe from harm. 

Edward smiles down at him. “I’ll see you on Monday?”

“Until Monday,” Oswald says pursing his lips and leaning heavily on his cane to avoid touching Edward. 

He needn’t have bothered. Edward reaches down to hug him, and in his haste to hug back, his cane clatters to the ground. Oswald doesn’t think he’s ever felt such a mess of emotions, such a push and pull of desires. His heart stutters when he realises that Edward used his cologne when he got dressed before breakfast. The idea of Edward smelling like him…no. He can’t think about that. 

Edward steps back after a few moments, and looks down at him with an expression that can only be called affectionate. “I’ll miss you.”

Oswald’s eyes widen, but he has no chance to respond because Edward turns on his heel and leaves the room, almost as if he’s afraid of what Oswald might say back. 

Oswald feels cast adrift without his cane to lean on, and he places his hands on the table, taking a deep breath. He eyes the coffee, but it’s lost its appeal. 

_Is it too early for whiskey?_ Oswald wonders as he prepares to go about his day.

**Author's Note:**

> Oswald will continue to have doubts until the evidence is placed directly in front of him (which will be very soon) XD


End file.
